Dear Ato Isayas Afewerki:

I can not tell you my name yet, because I am still alive, and telling you my name would change that reality. I am a 47 years old peasant woman from the Irob Region in Ethiopia. Like my ancestors for the past one thousand years, I was born here in the Irob Region in the Northern Ethiopia. I was not one of the fortunate ones to have gone to school. I accepted to marry a man few villages away, because I did not want to disrespect my parents. I lived a humble life with my loving husband and five children. We were not rich, but have few cattle, sheep and goats. We also have some honey, mainly reserved for guests.

My parents especially my mother is a very conservative Catholic. She is 76 years old and never misses to say her rosary every night. She does not remember the name of our current pope, but never fails to say few Hail Mary's for him. Until my son informed her that there is no king in Ethiopia anymore, she used to say few Hail Mary's for king Hailesellasie too. After my son has explained to her who the leaders are today, she was amazed that those poor looking young boys and girls with funny hear and dirty cloths have made it that far. She told us that whenever she saw those children passing by, she always felt sorry for their mothers who never knew where their children were.

Alitena have grown to be a market for the entire region. Zalanbesa, Senafe and Addigrat are the other important markets our people depend on. These days, I am told that Senafe has become part of another country, but we still used to go there to sell our cattle, Honey and fresh butter. People there are friendly and did not seem to be from another country. Most of the Senafe people speak Saho, which makes it easier for some of us who do not speak Tigrigna well .We have very good relationship with most of your people. People from Shimazana,Hado, Dabri Mela and others are people we have known and lived side by side with for centuries.

Ten months ago, something very strange started happening. One evening, in May, while we were eating dinner and listening to a Tigrigna Radio Station from your country we heard you make an announcement that Ethiopia must withdraw from Allitena. None of us coud imagine how Ethiopia could withdraw from Ethiopia. Within few days, I heard a big bung, similar to what I used to hear during the time when the students where roaming with guns in our region. I have never heard such a loud and terrifying noise in my life. My brother who was visiting us is a Militia in Irob. He told me that it sounded very serous but did not know what it was. Some neighbors called my brother and said there was a war and that the Eritrean soldiers have attached Irob at Maechia. All the men started running towards Aiga. The only time I remember men running this fast towards Aiga was whenever the people of Monoksoito would steal our cattle or ambush our children in Zagabla.

The next day, there were no men left in the Alitena area. I decided to go to Aiga to at least see my brother was ok. All of us women tried to get some water and food for our men. Many women did not just fetch water they joined our fighters. I have never been so proud to be an Irob and to be an Ethiopian in my whole life. I saw small boys with Kalshincov, and some with stones facing the biggest guns I have ever seen and kept pushing against the Eritrean soldiers. At the end of the battle, we have sacrificed seven young men for the Gods in Aiga. Every one of them had a bullet wound not on the side or from the back but strait from the front. I was told that it was a shame for our men to be shot from behind. We always die facing the enemy, never running away. My brother lay down on the ground covered with blood.. I knelt down helped him rest his head on my lap and whispered a word of thanks into his ear and told him that the enemy has lost, and Eritrea will never colonize his people. I know he left this world with a sense of accomplishment. I refused to cry for my brother or any other young men at Aiga. If death must visit us I felt, why not face it on an open field and die with pride. I am glad death did not snick behind my brother while he was sleeping or at the hour of his weakest moment in the hands of your soldiers. He died as a hero his finger on the trigger. I am not sure what your boys have told you about the battle of Aiga. I can only tell you that that the devil had enough dance partners for the next few weeks, until of coarse you sacrificed more of your soldiers to him in the next battles.

Within a week after their defeat, the Eritrean army was able to come back in huge number and control the region. The Irob militias moved out of the area hoping to save the local people from destruction. Within days Eritrean soldiers came to my house and asked if my husband was around. I responded by saying "Amhara Mabbe" it means I do not understand Tigrigna. I do understand Tigrigna, but I was not in a mood to speak it. The soldiers simply kicked our door, went inside our house and started ransacking every thing in the house. They went around to the backyard where our beehives were kept and poured a bucket of water on the beehives. They took some of the honey tossing some of it on the ground. They then held my 10-year-old son and forced him to lead them to where our cattle were grazing. They took every one of our cattle, and later I was told that they slaughtered and ate them all. The soldiers ordered that my family and I must go with them. I told them that my old parents who can barely walk would not make it far. They pointed a gun at me and said I have no choice. We walked for five days and made it to the village of Waratle where so many Irobs were kept in a worse situation than the way we keep our cattle. My mother never made it. We buried her half way between Waratle and Alitena. No, there was no priest, no prayers or any of the usual respectful traditions. I was too angry to cry. I did not want the soldiers to think I was weak. My dear father passed away after we reached the dreaded concentration camp of Wartatle. I was convinced that these soldiers were really from another country. Beating the elderly, priests, nuns and women is surely foreign to our culture.

In the village of Waratle, the Eritrian soldiers demanded that every one must accept their identity cards. Our elders, speaking in the Saho language advised us to reject this idea. They told us that the Eritrean soldiers were trying to make us Eritreans. I for one felt I was disgracing my own brother's heroic fight against the occupiers if accepted this card. Unfortunately, there were soldiers from Monoksoyto and other Eritrean areas who spoke Saho and have identified those who spoke against accepting the ID cards. The soldiers rounded those leaders and took them away, and we have not heard of them yet. We are all forced to provide a guarantor among our relatives. We are told that if any one of us escapes, the guarantors will be taken into a harsh punishment centers or worse, would be killed. None of us would attempt to escape knowing the kinds of punishment our relatives would be exposed to.

Ato Isayas, I am told that you are the new king of Eritrea these days. Ato Isayas I have always wondered if you have ever been to Irob region before. If you did, you would have known that we are people of 'good earth', and we treat our guests well, assuming the guests have any intention of leaving. I am assuming that you have never heard of our ancestors or of our history. The shock and surprise at how well we fought your army comes from your ignorance of who we are.

Through our long history, much longer than that of your "kingdom", we have been known to have a democratic system through which we elected our Ona (leader) every few years. We had a legal system that convicted criminals and even passed death sentences to people who committed unforgivable crimes similar to those being committed by your boys (men do not behave in this manner). Historically, we would not have accepted a leader who was not elected: This makes you simply a bandit that ought to be killed by "Kumti Dah":An old Testament style of death penalty through stoning that was practiced in Irob for hundreds of years. The Irob people put a very high value on what we call "Hane". Hane means simply being able to avenge crimes done against one's family. Well, as far as I can understand the Irob culture, you are the prime candidate for Hane. You see if you really knew us, you would have known that we are not admired for our forgiveness.

As at any war, the first casualties of this conflict are women and children. In the Irob area alone over 5000 small children have been disbursed by the havoc your soldiers caused when they entered schools and started killing and ransacking any thing of value. Mr. President, do you have any children? I heard you have one or two, If you really have children, I did not think you would have the stomach to kill innocent children who are the most precious gift of every parent. I heard you burned so many little children in a class- room in a town called makele. All I can say is Shame on you sir.

Mr. President, In Irob region, our school system was second to none long before any one knew the value of the modern education in the whole region. The basic purpose of school as we see it is to teach children not to steal some one else's property, not to lie, not to kill, and to be creative and not destructive. It is obvious you have no respect for these basic human values. If you had any respect for education, you would not have destroyed our schools, steal our desks and books. Have you ever been to Church to pray and not to prey Mr. President? If you have ever been to one, you would have known that a Church is a sacred place where we worship our creator, and not our king. If you were a Christian, I supposed you would have told your soldier not to steal that, which is of God for the use of a king. Mr. President, do you ever think of the day you will come face to face with your maker? Have you thought of the questions that you might have to answer concerning the pain you have caused the Irob people and others who have had the misfortune of knowing you?

You see Mr. President; I have lost my parents whom I could not even arrange a proper burial for. I have lost my beloved brother at Aiga. I have no idea where my children are, although I am told that you have met my daughter at Badime in February. I trust you will meet my sons in Zalanbesa, or God willing right here at Aiga, Irob. I have lost all my property and your mines have overtaken my land. You have turned me from a loving mother into a lioness whos young cubs taken from, from an honored wife into a rebel, and from a church going Catholic into vicious revengeful woman wanting to kill one more Eritrean soldier for my brother's ' Hane'. If you have not heard from my cousins of Zalanbesa and Afar region, I guarantee you that the content of the letter will be similar. Mothers all over the world have similar feeling for their children. If you would allow mothers in Eritrea to think freely for one day, you would be surprised how disgusted they too have become with your inhuman massacre of innocent children.

The more I think of how much pain you have caused, how much hatred you have planted in people who never knew they had any difference, and to top it all, when I hear you lie like a little child, I do not know what to make of you. The whole world has indicated that this war of yours has caused so much pain and destruction. I hear that you are the only human being that can spare the people of Eritrea and Ethiopia from so much destruction. I am told that you are the only person who can stop the stream of tears of innocent mothers and yet you have refused to listen to elders. Mr. President, I hate to ask you this but I must know. Are you feeling ok these days? You indicated the mosquito bite was simply another Ethiopian propaganda. Was it? I hope you understand what I am asking you sir. Is Tsetserat Center still open? For the sake of all the children still alive, for the sake of all the mothers who await the dreaded news of their loved ones, for the sake of your own child who will forever be known as the son of the butcher of children, can you please visit Tsetserat? How about it sir?